Masquerade
by Cheshiremask
Summary: What ghosts haunt the Opera Populaire? And what spectres haunt its patrons?
1. Chapter 1

Darkness had been a constant companion. At least until the first guttering point of candlelight had come from up above, where only Gods seemed to tread and sounds were not so hushed, stifled by the soft lapping of water on rock. Then, there had been the discarded trappings of divinity…chipped gold paint that glittered and flashed in the warm light from dozens of points of flame, cracked mirrors that he both loved and hated because of their beauty and his hideousness. He learned where each had sprung from, listening to the voices of angels filtering into his dismal Hell until he became old enough to learn that there was a bright world outside of the place of his exile. He learned every inch, sat for hours in the half-light at the edges of the beautiful world he had no place in, listened and learned and stole little things that no one would miss…

He filled the endless night with music of his own.

But even though his soul could be sent soaring through the darkness, beautiful and unblemished, he never felt fulfilled. He watched and marveled at the glorious spectacles above his hellish home, taking care of the Opera as only he could to earn his keep, to make the petty people – no longer Gods, now that he saw them practice, fail, and strive for perfection they never, never caught a hold of – realize that this was _his_ domain. He made contributions where he could, and when the players were _smart_, they took heed. They re-named him; made him better by calling him the Ghost of the Opera House…they gave him power a mere _monster_ could never have.

Still, there was no fulfillment…no sense of real accomplishment. He knew he could write music just as stirring as that of the old masters, but he also knew that none of the voices he heard would ever do his genius justice.

Until _she_ arrived.

She was perfect…and so shy. Her voice could, _would _be a soaring soprano under his tutelage. Her beauty would make her a Diva of the most precious, rare sort. And she was kind, so kind to the unworthy fools that surrounded her that he was sure, oh so sure, that once he had propelled her to stardom, given her everything a woman of her talent, her _perfection_ could ever want from the Opera – the _world _– that she, with the angelic soul that she had, would raise him from his eternal damnation and be the first to _love_ him.

Soon. Soon he would have everything ready. And then all they would need was a chance for her to show everyone else just how perfect they could be together.


	2. Chapter 2

The clash and clatter of the strings of beads on the ballerinas' belly dancer costumes was almost loud enough to drown out the sounds of their pattering footsteps, a little off from the tempo it was meant to catch, but that was what rehearsals were for. The almost shrill soprano of the Diva's voice echoed into the far corners of the Opera House's auditorium as she berated her assistants about yet _another_ offence – imagined or real, it hardly mattered when it came to Lady Koushou – and everything else was slowly grinding to a halt as it had been since the beginning of the new production's inception. The two new owners of the Opera Populaire were also getting in the way, being led about the stage by their predecessor, the older of the two – a blond gent with almost unfashionably long hair that seemed much more interested in the architecture than the dancing girls his younger, darker-haired partner was eyeing – making soft inquiries into the history of the Opera House and its staff. The ballet mistress, upon noticing the fact that none of her pupils were much taking note of their footwork any longer, clapped her hands to attract their attention and had them form ranks, her tone stern as she first disciplined them for their lax attitudes, then – living up to her moniker as the 'Merciful Goddess of the Ballet' – allowed them to rest and gossip with the ladies from the chorus as to the much anticipated arrival of the Opera House's new patron, a Viscount of some small fame and large fortune that had arrived from England several months ago to the delight of many a young lady of any kind of means at all.

"…Kanan? Kanan, did you hear me?"

The young woman blinked, blushing a little and looking back to her friend. "Oh, I'm sorry…what?"

"I had just asked you if you thought the Viscount would be making an appearance today…" Yaone's dark eyes clouded for a moment with worry, making Kanan smile all the wider in an attempt to placate her. "Are you sure you're alright? You still seem so distracted…"

"Oh, no I'm fine." Kanan shook her head and smiling wider, trying hard as always to dispel the shadow of concern from her old friend's expression. "You know how it is…I've been taking those lessons, after all, and they've been tiring me out a bit. I don't know if the Viscount will come, though…do you suppose that he's handsome?"

The question was the perfect distraction. Something of a romantic, Yaone was easily distracted by the idea of some rich, handsome stranger sweeping into the Opera House and making a pretty dancer his bride. The girls of the ballet circulated old stories about just such a thing happening at night, when they were tired and aching from long hours of practice and longer hours of rehearsals, and they had caught the kind, gentle girl's fancy and ran with it. Kanan had no such illusions, though she loved the Opera House as much – if not more – than any of them. Orphaned at a young age and robbed of a family she didn't dare hope to find on her own, she had come to the Opera Populaire in the hopes that becoming famous would someday bring them to her. She knew that it was, perhaps, a futile hope, but she had also known from an early age that her talents lay in dance and song rather than craft, and her late father's reputation as a virtuoso and composer of great reputation in the courts of Eastern Europe had all but guaranteed her a spot in the Opera Populaire's permanent roster, allowing her room and board just like the other ballerinas and stagehands got, and the safety of a secure home rather than one of the small, cramped boarding houses.

_And I've even an angel looking out for me…_

Her revelry was broken by a sudden, expectant hush, and she blinked a bit as she looked back towards centre stage, where the Diva was standing in her magnificent costume, apparently readying herself to sing. She could guess – from the expectant and somewhat bemused looks on the new owners' faces – that Lady Koushou had demanded the honor of singing an aria for them, and just as she'd thought, the conductor in the orchestra waved the musicians into the first few bars of the third act's famous theme.

Even Kanan could only ever bring herself to call the Diva's voice…piercing. She was a Soprano of the old Italian training, which meant that she had impeccable vibrato, a nigh unparalleled ability to sustain any note in her range, and enough volume to floor a buffalo. Many of the cast who were standing a little too close to Her Eminence winced as she picked up the first few notes, including the darker-haired of the two men who were hearing it for the first time. The blond smiled through every note with a determination that Kanan couldn't help but admire, even as the former owner's expression turned into the glassy sort of look that meant that he'd gone a little too long without the stress medication he had been loudly telling anyone who would listen about for the past three months. Out of the corner of her eye, Kanan could see the boy who had been fixing one of the small stage lights stuff small scraps of cleaning rag into his ears to help dampen the impact of the aria.

It would seem, though, that not everyone in the theater was willing to suffer the Diva's magnificence in silence. Barely through the second verse, and just as the captive audience onstage had begun to resign themselves to hearing the piece in its entirely, the loud clap and thunder of loose canvas filled the air, _almost_ drowning out Her Ladyship's wavering high C before the note was cut off entirely, the older of the two new owners having stepped forwards and caught Lady Koushou about the wrist and tugged her out of the way _just_ in time for the heavy weighted bottom of a set piece fell from the scaffolding above the stage, hitting the wood with a thump loud enough to startle curses from many of the men and screams from the women. Kanan was one of the only individuals onstage that didn't make a single sound, her eyes instead going up into the deep shadows wreathing the stagehands' walkways high above their heads, trying to pierce the darkness with eyes half-blind from the bright lights of the theater house proper to no avail.

"Banri! For Christ's sake, Banri, watch the scenery!" The old owner thundered, his face purpling as his blood pressure rose, the Diva already proclaiming loudly that she _refused_ to go on again as others tried unsuccessfully to reassure her that the accident – another in a _long_ line of the like – was a one-time happenstance. Most everyone but the owners and the few members of the cast who depended on her good humor for little trinkets and extras that they were greedy to lord over the less fortunate members of the staff were already trailing along after her, trying to get her to reconsider leaving in a huff for what had to be the twentieth or so time _this season alone_.

"I swear on my mother's grave I wasn't at my post!" Banri's coarse voice drifted down from somewhere, sober and grave for once where it was usually slurred from overindulgence and full of the kind of petty pleasure gained from either flirting with or terrifying the girls of the chorus. "And there's no one but me here, either!"

"If it wasn't you, than _who?_" The man was growing so flushed that Kanan couldn't help but worry that he might collapse from a heart-attack, his face the unhealthy hue of a dark red wine as he bellowed the words loud enough that they echoed around the empty theater.

"Perhaps it was _the ghost_."

The declaration sent everyone into a frenzy all over again. Everyone but Kanan; who merely paled and wrapped her fingers around the small gold crucifix that hung around her neck.


	3. Chapter 3

The Diva was inconsolable and removed herself and her entourage with a huff as the two new owners watched, one with a look of mild distaste marring his otherwise handsome features and the other with a look of polite resignation. The panic that had risen to a crescendo with the mention of the Opera's darkest secret only became more pronounced as nearly everyone onstage began to speculate loudly about the dismal fate of the new production now that the soprano and tenor were both gone. Kanan was too preoccupied with her own thoughts to be swept up in the hysteria, but even the whirl of her own worries wasn't enough to make her proof against the sudden shrill whistle the younger of the two owners employed to shock everyone into silence.

"Come now, there must be _someone_ who can take the lead in Lady Koushou's place. As the old saying goes, after all, 'the show must go on'." The older man smiled placidly, taking the attention of the crowd with the kind of ease that made Kanan wonder about his history as his partner shifted to stand just behind him. "It is the custom to have an understudy, is it not?"

"The Lady Koushou has always _refused_ to be assigned an understudy!" The conductor cried, his hands bending his baton to the point where it was moments away from snapping, as he was wont to do when nervous. "It was part of her contract!"

"One of my girls can certainly take the part."

It took a moment for the words to properly register, but as soon as they did Kanan's eyes – and all others – were on Madame Kanzeon. The woman stepped forward and laid one of her hands on Kanan's shoulder, gesturing to her with the walking stick she was in the habit of bringing with her everywhere she went. "Kanan here has been taking private lessons with a very proficient tutor. I have no doubt that she will be able to sing the part."

All eyes were on Kanan now, making her blush lightly as she bobbed a small curtsy and tried to defer the praise without feeling too self-conscious about her rather revealing costume.

"Perhaps a demonstration, then." Kanan blushed a bit darker as the weight of their gazes settled comfortably on her shoulders, but the Madame's hand squeezed her shoulder reassuringly before moving to pat her gently on the back, urging her forwards a pace or two as the conductor finally calmed himself enough from his panic to accede to the urgings of the two new owners to begin the aria a second time.

The first verse was soft, almost nervous, but possessing of a sweet clarity that made the impromptu audience members' breath catch in their throats. As the music began to spin its usual spell around her mind, Kanan closed her eyes and imagined that she was singing for her father, her family, her angel, and her voice rose to a stronger level, echoing up through the silent seats, rising and flowing with the notes of the orchestra. It was only after the last trembling note of the aria faded into silence that she came back to herself, only to be swept immediately into a flurry of preparation for the first performance of the season. Everything happened quickly enough to make her head spin, both from happiness and apprehension.

But whenever she became too nervous, she'd just look into a shadowy corner and imagine she could see her angel's eyes on her, that intense, fiercely proud gaze that had frightened her when she had first been subject to its full weight. And when it seemed as though she could never find the strength to step out onto the stage, covered in the finery and glittering splendor of the beautiful gown that the costumers had made for her debut, she would clasp her crucifix tightly in her hand and remember his words to her, his hushed, deep voice carrying over the soft lap of water against stone in the secret place he spirited her away to so he could teach her in peace.

"_You will shine brighter than any star, Kanan. I _swear_ it to you."_


End file.
